Purple Haze

My living room is deep purple all the way up to the cathedral ceiling. Majestic Purple to be exact.
On one wall in my living room is a sign that reads:
"Peace To All Who Enter Here".

Beneath the sign is a leather mask of an african woman, a hand sculpted and raku'ed face of King Arthur, a pencil drawing of an angel, a hand-carved wooden face of Bob Marley complete with a blunt in his lips, a wooden picture of Buddha, and a ceramic cross I made in 4th grade. The most important thing on that wall is the mirror that hangs amidst all the other faces.

I dreamt of a home that would be a safe haven for all who enter for many years. Seven years ago I bought this house, and last year I made it a home, complete with the pledge to serve the highest good for all who enter. The oath I took was originally for my children, as I committed to becoming the best mommy I could possibly be. Recently I realized, the best way for me to asssure the safety of all who enter, was to make sure I felt safe. Taking responsibility for assuring my own safety became a task that at times felt overwhelming. I had to own my willingness to be unkind to myself, and my high threshold for unkindness from others. When I realized what I needed to manifest peace in my life, peace began to plant it's very own seeds around me. With very little physical effort from me, the peace seedlings took root, and started to grow. What a beautiful sight to behold- a home where laughter is free, compassion is a given, and respect is the sacred commerce we exchange. As individuals our light's began to burn brighter, and more confidently. As a family, our light became a beacon attracting others. We haven't had cable in 3 years, but we have learned each others uniqueness. Music streams from bedrooms and the living room, and dancing is permissable in any space in the house. We have come to understand that it is a sacred honor to know someone, understand their sensitive issues, and create loving ways to support each other on our individual paths. When you let someone into your world and let them know the things that are unhealed and sore to you, you inevitably make yourself vulnerable. Holding their weaknesses with love in your hearts and arms is a privilege. Using that weakness as a weapon against them is an abuse of power, and sacrilege to me.
I have been guilty of this sacrilege before. I am acutely aware of the devastating effects of this behavior. Being committed to honoring and securing the emotional safety of those I love, including me, is no longer optional, but has become a commandment in my life. I will not laugh at someone when they are sharing the depth of their wounds, I will cry with them. I will not wield their weakness against them, I will assist them in protecting themselves from the very things they are weakest to. I will not manipulate them into embarassment for power, but will hold their intimate life details as sacred as I hold my own. Unfortunately, I had to witness several people I deeply loved become collateral damage to my unsacred use of power. Fortunately I learned the lesson.

I am human. I desire to be the perfect mother, the perfect friend, the perfect version of the divine me. Alas, it is likely that I will not always succeed. I have learned the value of choosing carefully those who I allow into my sacred story. I have witnessed the damage of gossip, and felt convicted because I have been the gossiper before. I have experienced the pain of sarcasm, and felt convicted because I have wielded that weapon far too many times myself. I have witnessed the disenchanting pain by an abuse of leadership power, feeling chastised myself for having been the one making less than healed decisions as a leader. I am subject to the same temptations and reactions as the next person. More often than not, now, I choose to be honoring of each person's journey. This includes my children and myself. I become a lovingly protective mother bear when it comes to my children, and I am learning that it is just as important to protect myself with the same vehemence.

I can honor someone else's journey by witnessing the choices they live their lives by. But that doesn't mean I have to let them in my house. Knowing my sacred story, or the sacred story of my children is a privilege. I can control how I respect the people in my home, but I have no control over how others portray their version of respect. Those I trust to show compassion, understanding, kindness and sincerity are invited in. All others are directed to the closest homeless shelter.

I am done confusing kindness with stupidity. Tough lesson, but I have mastered it.

Wishing you only compassion and honoring on your journey,
Love,
Laurie